


Midnight oil

by Artemis_Crimson



Category: Alien Quadrilogy (Movies), Alien Series
Genre: Canon Typical Violence, Canon typical body horror, F/M, Fluff, Post Aliens mini au, Robot/Human Relationships, canon typical gore, first crushes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:54:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27473851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis_Crimson/pseuds/Artemis_Crimson
Summary: In which helping hands are leant and quiet moments are had
Relationships: Ellen Ripley/Bishop
Comments: 3
Kudos: 11





	Midnight oil

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deceptigeek](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deceptigeek/gifts).



Ripley doesn’t want to get right in cyro after what happened. Bishop who’d been fully briefed by Mr Burke and the Company- unlike the rest of the marines including, Corporal Hicks understood her qualms perfectly.  
Also he was missing his legs and really would rather be repaired to ‘not rapidly deteriorating’ standards before being bagged. So while young Miss Newt peacefully dreams and Corporal Hicks awaits proper reconstruction Ripley helps fix him up.

She claims to have done this before, muttering about an Ash, and other artificial people who had offended her less over the years. She wasn’t a mechanic but, Ripley confessed she’d been nosy, and didn’t like not knowing how to do anything that might be practical.

Her knowledge is almost three quarters of century old. Bishop is state of the art. He knows he doesn’t look like a Weyland-Yutani show model, especially not now but colonial affairs always demand the best. He should turn her helpful offer down. If he can not be bagged and frozen like this he should attempt to make his own repairs. He should only ask for the supplies to be left by him.  
Ripley offers to help and Bishop takes it. Thinking of her pride and how she stood between the Queen and death and them. Not of her void qualifications, not yet reinstated.

The stretcher had been left underneath Corporal Hicks in the cyrotube, still unconscious and no one wanting to shift him more than was needed. So Ripley slings his legs across her shoulders like the piggyback ride she’d given Miss Newt. Bishop, even bisected is significantly more dense, throwing off her balance. She catches herself, stagers and waddles off to the medbay. Bishop half feels like pointing out the toolkit weighs less than him, less than the heaviest half she just finished dropping off. Ripley pops her neck in an enviously satisfying manner as she renters (if Bishop did that his strength meeting his handy modular design means his head would likely detach). 

“This is a two man job Bishop, I’m not dropping you so don’t get butter fingers on me now.”

He wiggles greasy digits one eyebrow raised, Ripley rolls her eyes right back and hoists him on her shoulders just the same. She’d cradled Miss Newt on her arrival, let Corporal Hicks lean on her. Bishop is halfway between, he slings one arm over her shoulders, both gripping her jumpsuit through latex lubricant. Ripley curls one arm through where his waist usually is, preventing himself and his insides from slipping down. The other braces against his fibreglass ribcage and suddenly Bishop thinks he knows what “vertigo” feels like. He can’t say it’s unpleasant, novel maybe- though he doesn’t think he’s been carried before.

He watches the floor move underneath him at a reasonable pace but it feels dizzying given he isn’t, he can’t move his legs, he doesn’t even have legs. He is not prone to flights of fancy but that thought almost makes him laugh. Ripley slings him down on the gurney next to his legs, one knee is haphazardly bent over the edge and the other is locked straight. Bishop attempts to reach for his main feed line and gets swatted with a wet towel for his efforts.

Ripley has the toolbox, a spool of synthskin, and a threateningly brandished jug of drinking water. She doesn’t say anything but the harsh slant of her mouth dares him to argue. He doesn’t. He shuts his eyes unnecessarily instead when she starts to mop the congealing white gunk from his face. This, Bishop thinks half delirious with what has to be the damage he’s sustained, this feels like care.

**Author's Note:**

> Someone else come ship it with us


End file.
